After the Spark
by clemm26
Summary: Life after Mockingjay for Peeta and Katniss- how do they deal with their past? What are the struggles they face everyday? How are they now that they have kids? (Peeta's POV, unless stated differently) set when their son is about 6 and daughter is 9 *based purely on the events of the books*, none are my characters/Please review if you read, I'm open to suggestions!
1. Chapter 1

Anger and hate. That's all I feel as I look around, breathing hard. They course through my veins and make my head pound. My mind is full of hatred for the three things I am looking at. I see a mutt, and two smaller creatures that seem to resemble her. The ugly mutt looks at me, gray eyes wide, "don't do this!" she screams desperately, as if I would care. She throws itself in front of the creatures.

For some reason, this infuriates me further; sends my mind into a crazier frenzy than before. I don't know where I am, everything is too bright and sparkling, and the only thing I feel sure of is that this mutt is the reason thousands of people are dead, including my parents. My parents, who feel like part of a distant world I don't remember.

Now she thinks she has the right to try and protect these smaller versions of her? I walk forward and roughly push her aside. I look at the one she was standing in front of, a boy with blonde curls and for a moment I hesitate until I see her eyes on his face. Those eyes, the source of my fear and rage, make the voices in my head scream for his death. I'm about to slash my knife through him when everything goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

I wake up, heart pounding, sweat cascading down my face, scream stuck in my throat. I look around frantically, trying to make sense of the darkness everywhere. The sound of my racing heart blocks every other sound out. I feel something move beside me, and shoot back several inches, bumping into a nightstand. As my eyes adjust I see its Katniss, my Katniss, not the one from my dream created by the venom. I see her eyes, shocked and scared, yet trying to stay calm.

As I continue to pant, I sense tears in my eyes. I feel contaminated and filled with guilt and hatred for myself. I hear her whisper my name telling me it's okay. I reach out, still in my awkward position on the edge of the bed, and grab her wrists. I explain my nightmare in a hurried whisper, telling how I wanted to kill her and our children. I can't look her in the eyes when I get towards the end, the part where I killed our son out of pure malice.

"But it's not true" I whisper, the desperation for reassurance clear in my voice, "It's not true, I love them I don't hate them. Real or not real?"

"Real" she says, her words urgent and sincere, "you love them, you know that. You love them more than anything else. They love you too, you're their world. Remember when our daughter first opened her eyes? And they were blue, they were your eyes. Remember how happy you felt, how we saw for the first time in the baby I held, the real proof that life could be good again?"  
>I nod, remembering that moment. The joy had filled me so suddenly and deeply. It was terrifyingly beautiful; I felt gripped with the need to protect the baby in her arms. Thinking of this calms me some, and I look into her eyes. I finally approach her, letting her stroke my face a few times before wrapping my arms around her and holding her tightly. "Thank you", I whisper.<p>

We stay like that awhile longer, not moving, the only noise is her hand rubbing my back and the steady rhythm of our breathing. Eventually her breathing deepens and I know she has fallen asleep. Despite feeling calm and tired, I do not want to sleep. I do not want to let my mind venture back into the deep pits of unconsciousness where the worst parts of me that usually hide come out and wander.

I think about the "real or not real" game. During the war, it was just a way to figure out which of my memories were had been tampered with, and how to sort out what I could trust and which parts of my mind I couldn't rely on. Now, I know who I trust, and those words are the guide that keeps me sane.

I don't think Katniss completely understands the reassuring power that she has on me when she tells me what's real and what's not. She is the only one I trust to tell me. When I get caught up in a whirlwind of nightmares and fear her words anchor me, keep me sane. Those times when I can't trust my mind, when all I feel and know is darkness and uncertainty, it is an enormous relief to know that I can depend on her. She is the safeguard of my love and trust and mind. I wouldn't be able to hang on to who I am without her.


	3. Chapter 3

After a while of thinking like this, I let my mind go blank, just concentrating on her breathing and the feel of her head on my arm and our feet touching. I continue like this, still not wanting to sleep, until I hear something that snaps me back to the world, to the room around me. I sit up a little. I hear a strange muffled sound, and what sounds like whispering. Curious, I gently settle Katniss's head off my arm and rest it on a pillow. I get up as quietly as I can manage and leave the room.

I follow the noise to my bedroom that my children share. I pause outside the door, listening. I hear my daughter's voice saying "It's okay, it was just a dream".

The muffled sound I heard earlier is my son crying. I enter the room, "what's going on?"  
>My daughter runs to me and says that he had a nightmare.<p>

I kneel next to his bed and lay my hand on his wet cheek. "Hey, you had a bad dream?"  
>He opens his eyes, Katniss's eyes, and nods, sniffling. I climb in the bed and hold him tight. "It's okay, it was only a dream, and it's not real". The words escape my lips before I can think about it, and send me back to my nightmare mere hours ago. Pushing the thought away, I just hold on to him tighter and hope that the words have as comforting an effect on him as they do with me. After some time, I sense him calm down and feel my daughter join us. "You see?" She whispers softly to her brother, "Don't be scared I told you it's all okay".<p>

I smile at her, looking into the blue eyes she inherited from me, and put an arm around her thin shoulders and kiss her forehead. "You're such a good sister, thank you".  
>She smiles proudly and nestles in next to us. I can see pale light peaking around the curtains that block the window, and know I will have to return to my bed soon. Yet I can't bear the thought of leaving them so I say, "do you guys want to come to mommy and daddy's bed?" They nod excitedly, and my daughter jumps out of the bed while I take my son on my back.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, maybe it's more for me than him, that I really want my kids in here because they calm me down so much. Yet I tell Katniss, who has just woken up and must have wondered where I was, that I brought them here since our son had a nightmare and wanted to be with us.

"Oh no!" She says, reaching for him and cradling him against her chest, "are you feeling better now?" She asks stroking his forehead with that special motherly touch I will never be able to give, that I never felt from my mother.  
>He nods and says, "Daddy made it go away"<br>Katniss looks at me and smiles, "Daddy's the best at making the bad dreams go away".


End file.
